


sugar high

by rosejelly



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, You can't change my mind, if you've played the nat route you'd know, she's a wolf in sheep's clothing, this is basically just sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosejelly/pseuds/rosejelly
Summary: Nat is absolutely enamoured with your cherry-shaped earrings and pretends to eat them.Which leads to her eating you. Then informing you later that you taste like ripe, late-summer strawberries, so you should probably change your label, it’s very misleading—orNatalie Sewell has a very refined sweet tooth.
Relationships: Female Detective/Natalie "Nat" Sewell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 100





	sugar high

**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like, you can listen to this song i was inspired by while writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L75uAPbFOEc

The evening sun stretches across your desk, turning your office into a warm wash of burgundy red, broken only by the dull yellow glow from your desk lamp.

Your head springs up, surprised. It’s been hours since Tina said her goodbyes, and the station is still and silent, except for the low humming of the fluorescent lights in the lobby. You sigh, flipping irritably through the thick file on your desk. You didn’t think your paperwork would take this long, but it always did. 

The soft thud of footsteps make you look up from your work. 

“You’re still here, detective.” The long, lean figure of Agent Sewell leans casually against your doorway, arms crossed, a warm smile on her face. The red sunset glows on her tawny skin, and her dark eyes seem especially bright in the slowly dimming light. 

“Nat,” you greet happily, getting up from your desk. You stretch your arms up above your head, groaning quietly as your shoulders pop. You miss the way her eyes dip to the sliver of exposed skin when you lift your arms. “You’re here on escort duty today, I’m guessing?” 

Her eyes flicker up politely before you can catch her staring, and her smile widens. 

“Less of a duty, more of a friend checking in,” she chuckles. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“We saw each other two days ago.” 

“Exactly.” She enters the office, her tall, lithe body sauntering towards you, long fingers trailing over the edge of your desk. You try not to stare at them. “It’s been a while.” 

There’s a charged silence as you digest her words, feeling tiny behind your desk when you gaze up at her, her brown eyes melting into deep, rich amber when the sunset casts its light directly upon them. She drags her eyes down from your lips to the subtle movement of your throat muscles when you gulp, flustered in the wake of her heated gaze. She finally tears her eyes away to look at the enormous file on your desk, and her eyebrows almost shoot up to her hairline. 

“I can see why you’re kept so late,” Nat murmurs, reaching over to flip through the thick file with a practised hand, the edge of the papers fluttering quickly against her thumb. She whistles, impressed, and lifts her head to grin at you. “You’re incredibly diligent.” 

“I’m really not,” you blurt. “Some of these are backlogs from months ago, when I procrastinated. I’m just paying the price now.” 

“Still, you’re finishing them,” Nat says gently. “Perseverance is another trait I admire.” She winks, and you groan, ignoring the warmth settling happily into your chest. 

“Please stop. Sit there and wait for me, quietly.” You lift your finger when she opens her mouth. 

“No more suave words out of you.” 

She perks up, delighted. 

“You think I’m suave?” 

_“Sit.”_

Nat sits obediently on the couch, smothering her laugh with a cleared throat. You bury your head back into your file, trying to hide your face, but you can feel her eyes raking over you, admiring you openly. 

Somehow, you manage to finish your work before you spontaneously combust. Maybe Nat was right after all, your perseverance is something to be admired. 

“I’m done,” you announce, getting up from your desk. Nat makes no move to acknowledge that, though her eyes are still firmly glued on you. “Nat?” 

“Oh, yes.” She snaps out of it, and her usual smile quirks on her lips. “Can I...am I allowed to speak now?” 

You roll your eyes even as a charmed smile makes its way on your face. “Yes, go on.” 

She’s in front of you in a flash, almost backing you against your desk. Your heart feels like it jerked to a very abrupt stop. 

“Good, because I just wanted to say, I’ve never noticed these earrings on you,” Nat gushes, reaching up to tuck your hair gently behind your ear. Her touch makes your ears burn. She cups the little plastic cherries carefully in her hand, running her thumb over it. “They’re adorable. It looks almost real from a distance.” 

She’s so close that you can see each one of her long dark eyelashes, almost dusting her cheek as she inspects your earrings, a charmed smile pulling at the edges of her soft lips. When she looks up at you, you’re struck by the unusually mischievous look twinkling in her eye. 

“Looks almost good enough to eat.” Her voice is liquid velvet, heavy with intent, and you have no idea if she’s still talking about your earrings. She dips her head, pushing forward just enough to playfully catch the dangling cherry with her teeth, sharp white canines glinting against red plastic. Her breath drifts across your neck, like a feather of hot air uncurling against your skin. 

You think you’ve stopped breathing completely. 

Your hands reach up automatically to grasp at her wide shoulders, fingers digging into her leather jacket, your sight completely blocked by Nat’s tall frame. The heavy, delicate notes of her expensive perfume scorches your senses, no doubt imprinted permanently in your mind. You’re torn between wanting to ask for the name of her perfume and wishing she would mark you with it. 

When Nat notices your tense posture, she draws away slightly so she can peer down at you, brows furrowed in concern. 

“Sorry. Was that too much?” She reaches for you, but she halts when you shake your head, your eyes full of obvious want. Her worry drops, eyes warming instead as she leans down to press her forehead to yours. 

“Not enough?” she suggests, voice low and sultry. You think you let out a whimper when she presses her hips against yours, trapping you against the edge of your desk, but you’re not entirely sure. 

Her eyes are firmly fixed on your lips, the soft brown irises darkening into a deep mahogany. She leans forward, her hand smoothing down the back of your head. In one quick, smooth movement, she twists her foot around your ankle and trips you so you’ll fall backwards onto your desk. 

Your breath is knocked out of you, but not by the force of the fall. 

Nat’s hand cushions the blow your head would have taken, and she moves one knee up onto the desk. Soft waves of coffee-brown hair escape from her loosely twisted chignon as she hovers over you, framing her high cheekbones and an unfairly sharp jawline. Her dangerously pleased smile seems sharper, almost wolfish, when she has the upper hand. 

Like she has you _exactly_ where she wants you.

The sudden movement shakes the mugful of pens on the edge of your desk. It teeters, and Nat swipes out to catch it before it falls and shatters. Your stomach does another traitorous swoop at the smooth catch, eyes glued to the long, elegant fingers gripping the mug. 

“Oops,” she mutters, giving an awkward chuckle. 

“Nice save,” you compliment, thoroughly amazed at how she could switch from hungry wolf to sheepish puppy in a second. 

“Do I get a reward?” Her voice dips to a low, sensual caliber, lips drifting over the shell of your ear, and you feel it rushing through you in a heatwave. _There’s the wolf._

“Mmhm.” Nat laughs quietly at your dazed reply, nuzzling her nose adorably against yours before she kisses you, warm and easy. She makes a happy hum into your mouth when your arms wrap around her, pulling her close. Every kiss with Nat feels like it’s the first time, the spark that bursts through you never fading or faltering. It’s always closely followed by rolling, burning warmth as she deepens the kiss. 

Nat’s kisses are slow, sensual and torturous; she takes her time to savour you, licking her way into your mouth as her hand slips down your button up, clever fingers slowly popping one button open after the other. 

When she releases her hold on your lips, mouth dragging longingly up the side of your gasping throat, you try to catch your breath, chest heaving. Her fingers drift over your belt buckle, eyes questioning, and she smiles when you arch up desperately towards her, trying to undo it yourself. 

She suddenly vanishes from your side, and you hear your office door snap shut, the lock clicking firmly into place. The sharp, metallic sound it makes pierces through you, and you feel even more undone when Nat saunters back to you, a hungry, roguish smile on her face, casually pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. 

She undoes your belt faster than you can blink, slacks deposited carelessly onto the floor. Exposed to the cool air of your office, your thighs press together instinctively, goosebumps rising on your skin. Nat slides her warm hands over the back of your calves, and with a slow wink, she drags you to the edge of your desk. 

She sinks to her knees and you almost whimper at the sight. Pressing her thumb firmly to the side of your knee, she parts your legs and mouths over your clothed sex, dark eyes glittering up at you from between your thighs. 

“Okay?” she whispers, and the hot air that puffs against you as she speaks sends you into a full-bodied shudder. 

“Yeah,” you exhale shakily. “Please. Nat, I want-” Your breath stutters to a stop in your throat when her teeth graze lightly over your skin. “Um.” 

“I know,” she soothes, peppering little kisses along your inner thigh, her gentle tone a stark contrast from the hungry, lustful look she has. “Let me take care of you.” 

When she pulls your underwear to the side, hot tongue sliding greedily inside you, your head lolls back with a choked off whine, fingers sinking into her hair. She gives a blissful hum, the kind she makes when she savours the first bite of her favourite human food, and your grip tightens, her messy chignon finally coming apart under your fingers. 

You squirm against the desk as she eats you exactly how she kisses you, slow and rolling and exquisitely torturous. Her tongue is magic, pressing flat and broad before it twists inside you, and you can feel yourself spill into her mouth, toes curling. She lets out an unexpectedly rough, feral groan as she laps you up eagerly, fingers absent-mindedly gripping your thighs so hard you’re sure she’s going to leave a bruise. 

She takes you to an almost-high before bringing you down, just as gently. Each time you’re sure you were going to come, Nat will shift away from the spot you need her most.

When she does it for the third time, you give a frustrated whine of her name. 

Her head pops up, lips and chin glossy wet, her deep brown eyes lusty and unfocused. 

“Nat.” Your voice is hoarse, but you give her your best pout. “Stop teasing me.” 

“Sorry,” she smiles, licking you off her lips, looking anything but sorry. “You tasted so good, I didn’t want it to end.” You’re distracted by the unusually husky tone to her normally smooth and honeyed voice, the pupils of her eyes blown out so wide that they’re almost entirely black. 

She lifts you easily from the desk and into her arms, kissing your cheek when you let out a surprised yelp. She collapses on the couch in your office, cuddling you close to her chest. 

“I wanted to see your face when you come apart,” she admits quietly, pulling your shirt off you, pressing a devoted kiss to your bare shoulder. “I wanted to hold you when you did.” 

“Oh,” you say, voice strangled. “Okay.” 

She grins at you, arm circling around your waist, pulling you closer on her lap. “Okay,” she echoes fondly, elegant fingers slipping between your legs. She follows your rhythm, forehead pressed against yours as you ride her long fingers, her own breaths harsh and uneven as she gazes at you. She barely blinks, unable to miss even a second of you coming apart, quite literally, in the palm of her hand. 

Nat gives a soft, entranced groan as she watches you squeeze tightly around her fingers, unravelling with a broken sob of her name. She rushes forward to kiss you like she can’t help herself, pressing you so tightly against her it feels like you’re melting into her toned curves. 

You whimper into her mouth as she reluctantly drags her fingers out, slow and gentle, like you might break. Your body shivers as you start to recover from your orgasm, and Nat immediately pulls her leather jacket off, wrapping it around your half-naked body. You drown in the scent of her, curled up on her lap, face tucked into her neck as you catch your breath. The ends of her jacket brush over your thighs, much too long for you. Nat smiles down at you, affectionate and tender. The hand that’s been holding you against her comes up to caress your face, her knuckles brushing against your cheek, fingers reaching out to play with your dangling earrings. 

“The cherries are misleading,” Nat muses. 

“Huh?” You mumble sleepily against her skin. 

There’s a slow, wicked grin spreading over Nat’s lovely features, one that she reserves for you. She lowers her voice, pressing her lips against your skin to whisper, dark and low and velvety. 

“You taste nothing like cherries, after all.” She pops one of her long, slick fingers into her mouth, and then hums in thought, the low vibration in her chest rumbling through you. “Closer to strawberries in the late summer, when they’re overripe.” She lowers her head, sinful lips brushing against yours. “Sweet.” Your breath hitches when her thumb grazes your bottom lip, parting your mouth. “Saccharine.” She grasps your chin and tilts your head up.

“I _do_ have a sweet tooth,” she murmurs happily into your mouth. 

You think you might combust, right here on her lap. Never in your wildest dreams did you think Nat would be the kind of lover who eats you out, wraps you in her clothes and then weaves poetry to you about what you taste like. 

“What, are you going to eat strawberries off me next?” you tease breathlessly when you break away from her kiss. Nat’s eyes gleam at the suggestion, looking like a pleased panther. The approaching twilight is casting long, navy blue shadows across her face, but when she smiles, her teeth gleam white, bared and hungry. 

“You have the best ideas,” she purrs, arms circling around you, trapping you to her firm chest. 

“It’s not, I’m just-” 

“There’s this new jar of Elvish honey I bought,” she murmurs, cutting you off gently like she’s in a trance, thinking about it. Her fingers drift down your neck, brushing across your collarbones. Her jacket falls off your shoulder, and her eyes seem to glint, unnatural and ethereal, in the growing darkness. 

“It would taste better on you.” She presses reverent kisses along your collarbones, down to the soft swell of your breasts. Her eyes flicker up to yours, heavy with desire. “If you’d let me try it?” 

The extinguished heat in your belly flares up again, and you don’t even feel the chill of the evening air, though Nat’s jacket is gradually starting to slip off the other shoulder. 

There’s a faint buzzing of someone’s phone that you both ignore, too wrapped up in each other.

When the door to your office flings open, cheap lock snapping into half, you just about have a heart attack. 

“Natkins!” Farah sings. “Are you there? Crap, I broke the lock. Ava’s gonna…” She trails off, her amber eyes scanning over your half-naked form, straddling Nat in the darkness. Nat slowly lifts her head from your chest, brown eyes widening with alarm. 

Farah shrieks with delight, which makes Morgan try to peer in over her head. Quick as lightning, Nat wraps you back up in her large jacket, a glare already marring her pretty features. 

“Why are you making such a racket?” Farah’s shrieking is cut off with a low thump, followed by her whining as she clutches her head. Ava nudges her aside, frowning down at her. 

“Nat, what is taking you so-” Ava’s voice dies in her throat as her green eyes land on you two. If the situation wasn’t so deathly embarrassing, you would have laughed out loud at the expression on Ava’s face. 

Nat clutches you protectively to her chest, still swaddled in her jacket. 

“Nat.” Ava pinches the bridge of her nose, looking incredibly weary. “ _Please_ tell me the detective is suitably dressed.” 

There’s a heavy pause. 

“I think we need some time to be dressed,” is all Nat says, and Ava tilts her head to the ceiling, looking like she wants to die. 

“Two minutes,” she barks, and shuts the door behind her so fiercely that the room rattles. You collapse into Nat with a mortified moan, and she actually cracks a smile. 

“We should have continued this back at your apartment,” she whispers regretfully. But her eyes drag over your body, heat simmering in them. “I can take you back there now.” 

You smack her playfully on the shoulder, sliding off her lap to get dressed. “I can’t believe you’re still in the mood.” 

“For you? Always.” When you roll your eyes at her wink, she giggles at you, then twines her long fingers lovingly with yours when you’re fully dressed.

“So is that a no to the honey?” she murmurs, voice low and teasing. 

_“Nat!”_ You try to wrench your hand away from hers, but she clings on stubbornly and swings your hands together, beaming down at you. 

“We can hear you, you know,” Morgan drawls from outside the office. Your face burns as Nat throws the door open, the fluorescent lights outside almost blinding you. 

“We’re just thinking of baking a cake,” Nat snaps hotly, cheeks flushed, dragging you behind her. 

“Honey? For _baking?”_ Morgan arches a smug brow at Nat’s flustered look. “I thought you were planning on eating _out_.” 

You bury your face into Nat’s back, groaning with embarrassment at her horrible, transparent lie. You only laugh when Ava blanches with horror, turning too sharply and walking right into the office wall, leaving behind a vampire-sized indent. 

**Author's Note:**

> from the cherry earrings post on tumblr @rosejellyy
> 
> Nat is probably just as bad as Morgan. Only slightly debatable. 
> 
> comments are well appreciated <3 also come yell at me on tumblr, i don't bite :)


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